


Countdown to you.

by Beth_Can_Write



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Can_Write/pseuds/Beth_Can_Write





	1. No days, no hours, no time, it's now.

556 days left until...

~oOo~

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 12 seconds.

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 11 seconds.

0 days, 7 hours, 6 minutes and 10 seconds.

John never really cared much for the little timer that had been imprinted on his wrist since birth. He never really cared for the idea of a soul mate, of one perfect person for everyone. But when his timer was getting closer and closer to 0:0:0:0 he couldn't help but wonder what his soul mate would be, whether it would be a he or a she, tall or short, thin or fat. But John had no say in the matter. Once he met his soul mate it was meant to be.

So he spent every waking moment thinking about what this person would be like. In seven hours and six minutes he would know. But for now, as the bedside clock ticked around to show it was about 5 in the morning he stood up slowly and made his way to shower. Oh, how tedious this day would be, constantly waiting for the timer on his wrist to disappear and a light name imprint on him. That's what happened when you met the person. The timer just disappeared and in its place laid the name of the person. The bolder the colour the stronger the bond they would have, and John knew this.

God, he was so worried. As he stood in the shower he wondered briefly about what this person would be like. Well, he lost track of time and ended up spending an hour in the shower just thinking about his soul mate.

What if they didn't get along? That's ridiculous, John thought, of course we will, we're soul mates. But he wasn't so sure. He bit his lip nervously and climbed out to towel himself dry.

0 days, 5 hours, 58 minutes and 34 seconds.

He counted along for a few seconds and then went about his business of the day, wondering who else would be counting down like him.

Later than day John was walking through the park and staring at his wrist. It was almost midday.

0 days, 0 hours, 59 minutes and 27 minutes.

Just under an hour. John didn't know why but his heart was racing.

"John! John Watson!" He heard a familiar voice and then turned around.

"Mike!" He exclaimed as he stuck his hand out and took the forearm of his old friend, shaking it with his strong grip.

"I heard you were in the army and got shot at, what happened?" Mike asked, a bright smile on his face as he sat back down on the bench and motioned for John to do the same.

John half chuckled at the idiocy of his old friend, always one to state the obvious and then question it. He then lifted his walking stick, "I got shot at." He confirmed.

For about 20 minutes John and Mike spoke about London and the army and they got into the conversation of flat sharing. "Who'd want to share with me?" John asked sarcastically, "The retired war veteran?"

Mike laughed to himself and then half smiled at John, "You're the second person who's said that to me today."

"And who's the first?" John asked curiously.

0 days, 0 hours, 37 minutes, 30 seconds.

~oOo~

0 days, 0 hours, 4 minutes, 12 seconds.

"Four minutes." John muttered to himself as he walked through St. Barts.

"Sorry, what?" Mike asked as he looked up from the floor.

"Nothing, just talking to myself. So what did you say this persons called?"

"I didn't." He smiled and the hallway fell silent except for the tapping of their shoes as they walked.

0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 56 seconds.

John walked into a room feeling different, there was one person in there, a tall man with dark curly hair and a dark suit on.

"Bit different from my day." John mumbled as he walked in and stood out of the way of the door.

"You have no idea." Mike chuckled.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Sherlock said without looking at either of the men, instead he tapped away at a computer.

"What's wrong with landline?"

"I prefer to text." Sherlock shot back.

"Sorry. It's in my coat." Mike shrugged as he walked to stand slightly out of the way, but in-between Sherlock and John.

"Uh- Here, use mine." John pulled his phone out and held it up for Sherlock to see.

"Oh, thank you." Sherlock rose from the seat and walked over to John to take his phone.

"Old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike smiled as his eyes followed Sherlock across the room.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Mike smiled when Sherlock said this but Johns head twitched to the side slightly to watch the man tapping away on his phone. "Sorry?" He couldn't have just said that, no, John had just met him, how could he know?

"Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?" he retorted.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you—" At that point a lady walked in and Sherlock shut down phone and handed it back.

"Ah Molly, coffee thank you." Sherlock smiled, took the cup and asked something about lipstick, John was frankly confused about what was going on but he watched carefully.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked as he stared straight ahead. Johns eyes followed the lady from the room and then he looked to Mike.

It seemed Sherlock was talking to him, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He cocked his head to John and Johns eyes glazed over, he was really confused.

"You- you told him about me?" John asked Mike, a note of anger rising in his voice but barely noticeable. A war veteran with trust issues doesn't like people being told about him.

"Not a word." Mike shook his head as he looked at some chemicals in a test tube.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?"

"I did, told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for." He stood and put his coat on as he spoke, with his back to both men. "And now here he is, just after lunch, with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap." He smirked as he fixed his scarf around his neck.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John didn't like this, he didn't like things being known about him and especially not by this man.

Sherlock didn't answer his question, instead he said about a 'nice place in central London' and then went to walk out of the room.

"Is that it?"

Sherlock did and about turn and face John, "Is that what?" He questioned.

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?"

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."

"I know you're an army doctor and you've been shipped home from Afghanistan. I know you have a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help. Because you don't approve of him, possible because he's an alcoholic, or likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on wouldn't you think?" He turned and once again made for the door.

John watched his retreating back and, when he heard the door click into place seemed to remember his timer. He lifted his wrist up just in time to see the little timer fade out and leave an electric blue 'Sherlock'

The door then opened again and the curly haired man stuck his head back around. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon." And with that he was gone again and John was left wondering about why his soul mate had to be such an annoying smart arse.


	2. I will burn you.

455 days left until...

From then on John and Sherlock were friends. Neither of them addressed the fact that they were soul mates because sometimes things were easier left alone. They were both happy with be friends, well, as happy as a sociopath can be while being close to someone.

John spent his days at the surgery, checking over patients, and his weekends and nights chasing down London's criminals. It wasn't the best of set ups but he was glad he was getting to spend time with Sherlock. Some people never spend time with their soul mate and John honestly felt like he belonged when he was around Sherlock. Like maybe, just maybe, he actually loved the sociopathic 'freak'.

John, I'm bored. Come home.-SH

I'm at work, I can't just drop it.-JW

Okay, well I found your gun so it's okay.-SH

I'm on my way. You shoot anything and I swear to God you will pay.-JW

Good.-SH

Sherlock was laying down on the couch, Johns gun discarded on his floor next to him. He threw his phone down next to it and then rested his chin on the tip of his middle fingers in his thinking position.

"It says John, it happened when I met him. It's him, it always has been but he's made no move. It's up to me, it has to be or I'll lose him." Sherlock thought aloud, barely noticing that the kettle was squeaking, signalling the water had boiled. "I don't wasn't to lose him so I'll sit him down, we'll talk. That'll work. I know everything about him, he knows nothing about me. Should I tell him? No, I can't. He'll leave, I know it.

But he is my soul mate. He wouldn't leave. He's caring, he's lovely, he's everything I'm not. Maybe he'd stick around, he probably would, I mean he killed someone to save me just mere hours after we'd met." Sherlock continued to speak, missing the latch on the door opening and the sound of footsteps. He returned to thinking in his head because he found that more comfortable.

"Sherlock! Did you shoot anything? I will use the skull as target practise if you did!" John shouted as he walked in and mounted the stairs. "Sherlock?" he called again.

Sherlock said nothing and continued thinking, his mind racing.

"Sherlock, you didn't shoot anything, you lied to get me back here? Why?" John frowned and picked up the gun, putting it back on the bookshelf, he would hide it somewhere better tonight. "You really shouldn't throw—"

"Shush John. I'm thinking."

John huffed and walked into the kitchen, mumbling something along the lines of, "Why the hell did he call me home just to think, I was thinking at work, bloody bastard." And Sherlock smirked when he heard it.

"John. I can still hear you." He called, his mind palace was compromised now so he frowned and sat up.

"Then I'll go back to work." John frowned and made his way through the living room and to the door.

"No! Don't do that, we need to talk. Sit down." Sherlock motioned to Johns usual chair and then stood up to pace the room as he waited for the man to take a seat.

"What's this about?"

Sherlock and thought of what would be the best way to do this and then frowned, "I—You—I'm not quite sure how to start this so don't speak until I'm done?" John nodded tersely, "Good, so as you know everyone has a time on their wrist that counts down, yes? I never took any notice to mine until you walked in and it was replaced." Sherlock undid his collar buttons and held up his wrist to show an electric blue 'John' nestled there. "Now, I know yours says Sherlock, you don't have to hide it. But I just don't get this. We're soul mates and it's clear you like what you see in me when you nervously stare at my face for too long or the back of my towel as I walk out of the bathroom. I don't have feelings, John. What I do know is that I value your wellbeing above all others, I value you being here and staying more than I value anyone else. So, tell me something, why haven't you acted on what your name says?" Sherlock had stopped pacing and he was now kneeling in front of John, who'd turned rapidly red at the comment about the towels, and took hold of his wrist, tracing a finger over his name there.

John cleared his throat and shuffled around in his chair. "Because, You are Sherlock Holmes. You told me the first time we met that you are married to your work—"

John was cut off. Sherlock didn't want to hear all this crap about what he'd said all those months ago so he went out on a whim, not quite sure of what would happen he leaned in and kissed John lightly.

Both of their eyes closed, at first the shock was all that kept John there but, after time, he realised that this felt good. It felt right and he liked kissing Sherlock. He thought it was way too soon when Sherlock pulled away so he frowned.

"You're frowning. You didn't like it. I just wanted to see if you felt the same way but if you're frowning then you didn't like it, I won't do it again—"

This time Sherlock was cut off. His lips were stopped of their useless rambling as John soothed him. Johns hand stroked over Sherlock's cheekbones as they kissed, this one lasted longer and Sherlock knew that both of them were enjoying it when they pulled away only slightly and they were both breathless. John rested his forehead against Sherlock's.

"I love you, I just never thought you would love me."

~oOo~

"Boss?" A man stumbled into a darkened room. "The subjects have realised their attractions and have kissed and now they're talking through their feelings." His eyes darted around nervously. He could see the outline of a chair, just as every other time he walked in there, and was scared as to who the soft, Irish lilt came from.

"Start phase two. We move in 455 days." He shot back. The worker walked back out of the room and the Irish man started flicking a lighter in his hand, "I will burn you." He whispered.


	3. A Study in Sexts.

365 days left until...

"Sherlock, I got the milk." John shouted as he got in, "I also got food, not that you'd care, you don't eat." John muttered sarcastically to himself. "Sherlock?" He shouted again.

"Shush John, thinking."

John huffed again and sat opposite Sherlock until he noticed exactly what Sherlock was thinking about. "What's that?" He asked, leaning forward on the chair and staring at the little bottle that held a single pill.

"A pill, John." Sherlock said, the roll of his eyes was almost audible.

"Yes, and why is it here?" John rested his head on his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Because I wanted to see if I was right." Sherlock cocked his head to look at John.

"Right about what? Where did you get that pill?"

"It's from our first case together, you now, the serial suicides." John nodded gravely and stared at the bottle. "That is the pill I chose, the pill that I was going to take, I need to see if I'm right." He picked up the bottle and took the lid off before examining the tiny capsule closely and sniffing it. "Nothing seems odd," he commentated aloud, he opened his mouth as he examined it, clearly ready to put the pill in.

"Sherlock! Don't you dare take that pill!" John shouted as he pushed himself out of the seat and pulled Sherlock's hand away from his mouth. "What if you were wrong? You would die." John said slowly, as if he were explaining to a five year old why he should take mummy and daddy's headache pills.

"That is a risk I'm willing to take, I'm sure I'm right John." He frowned up at John.

"It's not a risk I'm willing to take you bloody idiot. If you die on me then I will kill you." He took the pill and placed it back in the tiny bottle, which he in turn placed in his pocket.

"Impossible." Sherlock huffed as he leaned back, he was so bored and that was one this that could exponentially take up his time.

John rolled his eyes and went to his room, when he returned Sherlock could see the bottle had clearly disappeared from his pocket. John sat down next to Sherlock, "I just don't want you to die." He whispered.

Sherlock said nothing, he turned his head to John, "But I'm bored and there's nothing to do." He frowned and threw his arms up in frustration.

John chuckled and moved so he was knelt on the couch, he then leaned down and kissed Sherlock's face, pushing him down slowly so his back was against the cool surface. "I can think of something." He breathed against Sherlock's lips, "I occupy your time, don't I?" he grinned devilishly as his lips trailed down to Sherlock's neck, where he placed soft kisses and made a dark love bite appear.

"Yes, this will definitely cure my boredom." Sherlock's hands moved quickly to the base of John's jumper, which he pulled up and over the man's head.

Johns hands fumbled over Sherlock's buttons as he undid each one before tugging the shirt of roughly and kissing over Sherlock's chest, every piece of skin he could find and every trace of a scar from a run in with criminals. He trailed his tongue across each long scar and kissed the tips.

Then a piece of opera music and John cursed because he knew it was Lestrades customised ring tone. "For fucks sake." He frowned and watched Sherlock fish the phone out with an apologetic glace. John shrugged and went on kissing the skin.

"Holmes." Sherlock said after clicking answer.

"Yes, okay... How many?... Two?... Well, yes, I guess so. Bring it over... Okay, 10 minutes... John will have coffee over... No, don't bring Anderson!... He better not be expecting coffee!" Sherlock growled into the phone as he hung up. He then looked down who was kissing just above the waistline, "I don't want this to end but Lestrade has a case..." Sherlock trailed off and watched John slowly stand up, his hard-on evident from the bulge in his trousers.

"So, I'm making coffee." He frowned and walked into the kitchen as he pulled his jumper over his head. Sherlock, in turn, began buttoning his top and straightening his hair before he lay down on the couch.

"It's two murders John! Two, in completely different parts of town and the police can find no link between them!" Sherlock called.

He faintly heard John say something like, "That's cool." He would have to make it up to him.

When John walked back in with three cups he was still craving Sherlock's touch and his hard-on was still there so he sat on the lonesome chair and folded his legs, hiding it with a pillow.

"I will make it up to you." Sherlock said as he stood up to get the door.

"Yeah, whatever." John leaned back and picked up his book, watching Sherlock cross the room, he really was flawless.

"Sherlock, thank you for seeing us at such short notice, hope we weren't interrupting?" Lestrade said as he walked through, followed by Anderson.

John sat up slightly, "No, you weren't interrupting anything, Detective Inspector. In fact Sherlock was just telling me how bored he was!" John said sarcastically.

Sherlock frowned, "I just need to go to the toilet, I'll be back in a few minutes." He smiled and excused himself.

"So, what's the case about this time?" John frowned, "Sherlock told me there are two murders that are in no way linked?" He asked softly, the book secure in his hands but his eyes planted on Lestrade.

"Yes, double murders in completely different parts of town, nothing in common except they were both gutted and were both mothers." Lestrade said. Anderson eyes darted around the room and a look of distaste set in.

Ding-ding.

"Sorry, that as my phone." John said as he fished it out of his pocket, the conversation was running dry too. Picture message? Odd. And it's from Sherlock, but he's in the... oh. John thought as he looked at the phone, a wide grin spread across his face but he concealed his arousal as much as he could. Sherlock sending him a picture of that particular part of his anatomy turned John in immensely.

'You dick, why did you send me your dick?-JW' he tapped out, his fingers fumbling over the letters slightly.

"Who was it?" Lestrade asked before Sherlock walked back in.

"No-one, just a friend with a really good photo." John smirked at Sherlock and then his eyes darted back over to Lestrade.

"Can we see?"

"No!" John answered a bit too fast, "I mean, no, it's an inside joke from one of my army college friends." He added on, "You wouldn't get it." Sherlock smirked in such a way that only John would know there was something different.

'You will get punished later, tied up and spanked.-JW'

Knowing that Sherlock loved to be dominated he decided that teasing until he exploded was the best motive, it would give him the incentive to get rid of the men and only have John left to do as he pleased.

'Oh, captain. Bite me. Literally.-SH'

John imagined Sherlock's lips saying those words and that alone was enough to make him want to jump on him, but he couldn't.

John tuned in momentarily to the conversation as he typed. "...hammer over the head. The only link between them is that they both had..." and then he decided not to listen and to concentrate on texting.

'Your skin does taste lovely but maybe a bit later, I might make you work for it first, really prove your worth.-JW'

John raised an eyebrow cheekily as he sent the text and Sherlock knew it would be something good, the last time Sherlock had to 'work for it' and 'prove his worth' they ended up shagging on nearly every surface, which he was definitely not opposed to.

'Captain, you know I love it when you boss me about.-SH'

John sniggered at that text, he was definitely the dominant one of the relationship and Sherlock was correct, John bossed him about and he loved it, they both did. When he got strange looks from Lestrade and Anderson he stood up. "I'm going to go to my bedroom, since you lot are interested in the case and I have no idea what's going on, have fun." He smiled at them and went to walk out. He turned back around and winked at Sherlock when he was sure no-one else could see.

'Now comes the good stuff.-JW'

Teasing was something John had always been strong at when it came to sex, or anything relating to the bedroom, so why would sex with Sherlock be any different.

Sherlock looked at his phone and faked a frown, he knew that he would have to usher Lestrade and Anderson out soon because he knew exactly what John was capable of doing when he was in this mood.

The next text that Sherlock received was a picture text, Johns hand, three fingers already lubed and wrapped around himself with the caption 'I'm waiting-JW'

It took everything Sherlock had not to explode, instead he continued listening to Lestrade go on about the case, he already knew it was the long lost sister of the two people, and replied. 'John, I have a big case here.-SH'

To which the rapid response was, 'I have a big thing here for you two, deduce what it is.-JW'

And with that Sherlock full on frowned.

"Is there something wrong?" Lestrade stopped halfway through the sentence and Sherlock looked up.

"No, nothing. It's just that something happened with the body parts at the morgue. Would you mind if we continue this conversation later? I know it's the sister but I also know you need proof so I'll give it to you later. But for now I need to phone Molly so we'll finish this later." He stood up and, just as he hoped they did too.

"Okay, good bye." Lestrade made his way to the door and Anderson followed quickly. When they were out Sherlock locked the door and half ran to Johns room. He stripped off his top as he went there and then managed to somehow climb out of his trousers when he got to the door.

"Sir," he cleared his throat and knocked on the door, he would do everything to please John tonight and that meant being a perfect submissive partner.

~oOo~

"One year, that's all we have left." An Irish lilt said over an intercom, busying the workers in the warehouse.


End file.
